


Sweatpants, Dammit

by radiantdean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, human!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 10:54:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4703432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiantdean/pseuds/radiantdean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fulfilled tumblr prompts</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweatpants, Dammit

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you're interested, my tumblr is radiantdean (:

Cooking breakfast was one of Dean’s favorite activities. He loved standing by the stove as Sam came in from his morning run and took his seat at the table. He loved serving up meals to his brother and the other resident of the bunker, the newly-human, ex-angel. 

Cas could barely make it out of bed in the morning without a cup of coffee. He often came stumbling into the kitchen, half-dressed, or wrapped only in an old bathrobe. He would keep his eyes open only long enough to find his way to the table and then collapse into a chair, resting his head on the polished wood. Sometimes Dean could even hear a soft snore escape his lips.

And so Dean would serve him a steaming cup of coffee before returning to the omelets, pancakes, or whatever he was making that morning, smiling slightly as the sounds of Cas beginning to finally wake up for the day reached his ears. 

One morning, as Dean was standing over the stove frying several pieces of bacon in a skillet, he heard the soft sound of feet on the hardwood floor.

“Hello, Dean,” came Cas’s husky voice, thick with sleep.

“Good morning, Cas,” Dean said, glancing around. When his eyes landed on Cas, who was leaning casually against the doorjamb, his breath caught in his throat. 

Cas’s hair was all over the place, his dark locks sticking up in every direction, obviously thanks to his pillow. His shirt was dark green, old and faded. It was just possible to make out that there had once been a logo on the chest, but it had long since been washed away. His sweatpants rested low on his hips, and the fabric was too long for his legs, draping over his bare feet. 

“Are… Are you wearing my shirt?” Dean managed to choke out, his arm hovering over the sizzling pan.

Cas glanced down, pinching the shirt between his thumb and forefinger. “Yeah, I am,” he said, looking back up at Dean, his eyes squinted against the lights in the kitchen. “I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

“It’s not,” Dean said, clearing his throat and attempting to return his attention to the task at hand, but he just kept glancing over at Cas.

Cas nodded and stretched his arms over his head as he yawned. He let out a soft sound as he squeezed his eyes shut, arching his back slightly. His t-shirt lifted just slightly with his movements, revealing a strip of skin above the waistband of his sweatpants, including both of his hipbones. 

Dean sucked in a breath, his eyes glued to Cas’s exposed skin. He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to reel himself back in. He was unsuccessful. 

“You alright, Dean?” Cas asked when he’d finished yawning. Dean began to nod but paused, unsure of how he wanted to continue.

“Oh, fuck it,” he muttered to himself, dropping his spatula on the counter. He crossed the room in just three steps, coming to a stop in front of Cas, his fingers just itching to touch every inch of Cas they could.

And so he did. He grabbed Cas’s hips and pulled him closer until their faces were just inches apart. Dean took a deep breath before closing his eyes and pressing his lips firmly to Cas’s. After only a couple of seconds, he pulled back, honestly surprised with his own actions.

“What was that for?” Cas asked breathlessly, his blue eyes wide.

“You just look so damn good in the morning,” Dean said.

That was the first morning Dean ever burned the bacon.


End file.
